Chapter 83 – The Drunken Ashborne
Ashborne, unfortunately, had to leave the ball early.
It was not only because Eleanor was just fifteen – making it inappropriate for her to remain out past eleven – but also because he was drunk, in no stage to mingle or socialise until four in the dawn like the others.
Halesworth carried Ashborne out of Rosenoire House through a side exit, with Eleanor following closely behind. The court official waiting by the door promptly summoned Ashborne’s carriage and assisted in getting him into the vehicle. Halesworth extended a hand to help Eleanor into her seat, then gave Ashborne another glance.
“Tell your brother I’ll take care of the rest,” he said. “He owes me a treat for this.”
“I will, Lord Davies. Thank you for your help,” Eleanor replied with a light nod and a slightly longer glance, as if observing him.
Her response made Halesworth study her more closely – she knew what Ashborne was doing… Perhaps, she had even contributed to it.
He had long known Ashborne had a sister, but he had only met her on several occasions and hadn’t once conversed with her directly. However, he recalled quite fondly Ashborne once remarking that, had she been born a boy, her name would have echoed through Parliament. At the time, he had dismissed it as exaggeration. Now, however, it seemed young Lady Eleanor was indeed clever. Alas, she was a lady, and Ashborne was the heir; there were things she simply could not do.
He sighed. “Passion fades. A long-term undertaking cannot be sustained by passion alone. Ashborne may seem to enjoy – perhaps even enthusiastic about – this matter of public health, but it will not last. I do not believe it does him any good to involve himself so deeply.”
“Precisely why he shall busy himself with it for a time, and be free of the burden soon after,” Eleanor said, unconcerned. “His consultant’s suggestions were swift and simple, but rather crude, with far too many flaws. Perhaps she had expected my brother to be able to round up the details she did not provide – which unfortunately, he cannot. Anyhow, I am quite surprised my brother has outdone himself this time. I should have pressed him sooner.”
Halesworth deciphered multiple hints from her words; yet, he arced a brow. “Consultant?”
Ashborne had not mentioned the presence of this person in his story just now.
“Birds of a feather, I believe you would take an interest in her as well,” Eleanor replied with a polite smile – though to Halesworth, it resembled more a knowing smirk. “Be patient, Lord Davies. You shall meet her soon.”
“Her?” A woman? Halesworth was intrigued, but this was hardly the moment to pursue the matter. He signalled the footman to close the door and gave a slight wave. “Good night, Lady Eleanor. I shall call.”
“Good night.” Eleanor inclined her head as the coachman set off, the footman swiftly jumping onto the footboard.
Watching the carriage depart, Halesworth straightened his attire, and turned back toward the ball. His sister had taken a keen interest in Ashborne’s suggestion for public health education, and he intended to see how he might assist.
Meanwhile, Eleanor observed her brother’s rare state of drunkenness.
Her brother disliked drinking; she had never seen him intoxicated before. At dinner, he limited himself to a few sips of wine, preferring cordials or lemonade. Mrs. Palsmore often remarked that such drinks were for children – hardly suitable even for ladies at table. She suspected this was one reason he did not mingle easily with other gentlemen; they might have found him lacking in manliness. And rather than argue with them, he remained distant from those not in tune with him.
Yet today, in order to accelerate the Clean Air Act and installation of air-cleaning devices, he had drunk with and flattered those troublesome politicians and intellectuals. Eleanor supposed he had stuck to wine or champagne rather than anything stronger like brandy, but he must have consumed a considerable amount to be in such a state.
Well, at least he is not shouting or staggering like those wretched drunkards, Eleanor thought with a sigh of relief.
A moment later, she realised she had been premature.
Halfway back to their estate, Ashborne stirred from his stupor. Still unsteady, he pushed himself upright, then quietly turned his gaze to the window.
No shouting, no crying – only silence, as he watched the passing night.
Eleanor’s heart tightened, set on tenterhooks. People said drunkards would vomit, and it would be foul, messy, unbearable… Surely he was not about to be sick… was he?
She pressed her lips together, fingers clutching the fan-shaped dance card she had received as a token of attending the Queen’s Spring Ball, and hissed a warning, “Brother, maintain your dignity as a gentleman!”
“...huh?” Ashborne lagged for a few seconds, as though the words took time to reach him.
“Close your mouth, and sleep,” Eleanor ordered, hesitating despite herself. “We shall be home soon, and you may rest properly then. Just… close your mouth.”
Ashborne stared at her blankly for a long moment before pouting. “Elly, why are you telling me to shut up too… Jade said the same thing…”
Eleanor had never heard him speak of that ragged-school teacher silencing him – who would dare silence a noble?
Ashborne frowned, lips still pouted. “No, she didn’t actually say it… but she always rolls her eyes and… and glares at me. I know she prefers me to speak less… but it’s fun…”
“... Fun?” Eleanor could not fathom the “fun” part.
Ashborne nodded, grinning, “She’s… adorable when she thinks I talk too much, hehe.”
… the rolling eyes and glaring was adorable? Lady Eleanor, who would never allow an outsider to see her display such expressions, found her brother’s taste rather peculiar.
No wonder he had yet to find a wife. No Lady would roll her eyes or glare at him like one peasant at peasant. Eleanor turned her gaze aside, unable to continue looking at her brother.
Silence settled within the carriage. The gentleman sat in a hazy daze, while the lady remained on edge, bracing for the possibility of a vomiting scene.
After a long while, Ashborne spoke again. “I miss Jade.”
“...what?” Eleanor’s gaze snapped back and glared at him.
“I haven’t seen her for weeks… I miss seeing her,” Ashborne muttered. Then he knocked on the carriage wall and raised his voice. “Simon, to the Wyrnfield domus!”
The small panel slid open. “My Lord, now? Are you certain we should head to the domus at this hour?”
“Yes! Now!” Ashborne then lowered his voice and giggled at Eleanor. “Elly, I’ll introduce her to you. Let’s surprise her!”
The young Lady of the Ashborne could not control her drunken brother, and that was how Jade received an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night, under the dim light, right after they had finished their budget version of a Spring Ball.
“… Hey! Don’t you dare throw up here! Oi!”
Eleanor had not heard what the ragged schoolmistress said before that, as Ashborne had been speaking in a low voice, but the sharpness of that one shouted line made her irritation perfectly clear.
“Ish! You… Sir! Ugh! Eww… Thank Light it wasn’t on my clothes! Josh! Get me a wet towel! Tsk tsk… Ish!”
Eleanor saw a silhouette dart through the domus gate, then quickly returned carrying a stool, a basin, and a towel slung over his shoulder. Only as the silhouette approached did she realise he was a lad, perhaps her own age.
“Sensei, is he alright?” Eleanor heard the boy ask, “Why is he here anyway? Wasn’t he meant to be at the Queen’s Ball?”
“Don’t ask. You can never guess what a drunk human is thinking,” The young woman said with a unique accent. Her tone – light yet crisp – reminded Eleanor of a singing bird. “Be glad that he didn’t think he’s a fish and try to jump into a pond. Lesson for you, Josh: don’t drink alcohol. Wine, brandy, whiskey, or champagne, just don’t. Boiled water is the best drink a human should have.”
“But Sensei, I remember drinking small beer when I was a toddler… that’s fine, right?”
“Tsk.” Eleanor heard the woman click her tongue. And a pause, she said, “In a situation where you can’t get a clean water source or fuel to boil water, drinking beer would be your best option for survival.”
“Why?”
“Because the process of making beer kills the germs in the drink.”
“Germs…?”
“Yup, that’s your science lesson for next semester. We’ll get some water samples and observe the microbes.”
“Okay, Sensei.” The boy paused. “Sensei, should we fetch some hangover remedy from Brother Samuel? The Lord does not look well.”
“There’s no such thing as a hangover remedy.”
“No? But I’ve seen housewives soak stale bread in ale… doesn’t that help?”
“It only fills their stomachs, doesn’t help the body break down the alcohol… I mean, your stomach needs time to process your food into poop. Same goes for alcohol, your body needs time to process it into pee, but the process takes a long time and is very uncomfortable.”
“Sensei, surely there’s something we can do for our good Lord?”
Eleanor frowned at the crude choice of words, but remained silent and listened closely. After a pause, the voice replied, “Go and warm a drink for me: a cup of water, a spoon of honey, and a small pinch of salt. Make sure it’s warm and properly dissolved.”
“Alright, Sensei.” The boy hurried off.
Eleanor then heard the ragged school teacher speak again, her tone shifting to one of practical advice. “Hi there, you’re Milord’s servant, right? Good. If possible – I think he’ll have a bad appetite or a bad headache tomorrow – please tell him to have some gruel or broth; chicken or beef are both fine. Have those first even if he doesn’t have an appetite; that’ll do his stomach good. And tell him to drink more water. He needs to flush out the wine – or brandy, whatever – just drink more water, and he should feel better soon.”
“Yes, Miss Jade. I shall inform the butler and the housekeeper.”
“... I’m guessing he insisted on coming here, and you couldn’t stop him?”
“... Quite loud and clear.”
“I wonder if he’ll remember this when he wakes up… Thanks Josh! Alright, Sir, drink some water and head home…”
Then Eleanor heard her brother pouting. “But I don’t want to drink anymore… I had too much wine…”
“This is water. Just water, alright? Sweet water, not wine. Trust me, I make sweet cakes, so I make sweet water, get it?”
“...promise it’s sweet?” Eleanor would have swore she had never heard her brother speak in such a soft, almost childlike whine.
It probably stunned the ragged school teacher, too, because her voice only returned after a long pause, sounding defeated, “Yeah, I promise. It’s sweet.”
Aleanor heard her brother mumbling as he drank the honeyed water, while the young teacher encouraged him as though coaxing a toddler. “Good, yes, you’re doing very well! Now drink it up… yes, just a little more. There, very good!”
It took some time for Ashborne to finish the drink, and longer still for Jade to talk him back into the carriage.
The schoolmistress must have been tired; she failed to notice Eleanor entirely. With a final push, she bundled the drunken man inside and quickly shut the door with a firm thud. “Okay, bye-bye! Mr. Coachman, off you go now!”
And the carriage rolled away.
Through the window, Eleanor saw the silhouettes of the schoolmistress and her pupil standing there for a moment, watching the carriage depart before turning back toward the domus.
The Lady sank into quiet contemplation.